


ain't it like thunder under earth

by cabinfever



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Post-War, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 13:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/cabinfever
Summary: Keith hums, and his dark gaze burns a path up and down the length of Shiro’s body. “Keep going.” He’s spread out on the couch now, legs spread wide, and his arms are extended along the top of the couch.So Keith’s totally committed to this now. That’s dangerous.Shiro tugs his underwear down an inch and says, “Tell me what you like about this.”Shiro knows that Keith likes to watch.





	ain't it like thunder under earth

**Author's Note:**

> teeeeeeeeeechnically in the same universe as [this,](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/16090622) but really all you need to know is that shiro likes to get dicked down sometimes.
> 
> title taken from "nfwmb" by hozier.
> 
> inspired in part by [this art by taylor, whom i love](http://www.glaiveshiro.tumblr.com/post/178061960397/pls-pardon-me-im-just-one-thirsty-bitch)

Shiro’s done some thinking. 

He’s trained to notice patterns, and to notice anomalies, and there’s something he’s starting to put together about Keith. A theory of sorts. He’d like to test it out.

It’s been half-formed in his mind for a while, but he’s not been sure when to put this particular plan into motion.

Tonight, though, they’re both free, and they have tomorrow morning off. Shiro’s made sure of that. The only thing left to do is start.

He wanders into the living room of their shared quarters. Keith’s already out of his uniform and in one of Shiro’s old shirts and some sweatpants, curled up with his data pad in the half-light of a nearby lamp. He must have finished drills with the paladins a while ago. Shiro leans in the doorway, watching him for a moment. Sometimes it amazes him that someone as exquisite as Keith would choose to let himself be tied down to another person. It amazes him more that Keith chose him.

No, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop loving him.

When he’s done admiring how Keith looks in the low light, he makes his way into the room to stand before the couch. “Hey, Keith.”

Keith looks up from his data pad. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?” Experimentally, he toys with the top button of his uniform jacket, not quite unfastening it. If his suspicions are right, it’ll get Keith’s attention soon enough. 

It works; Keith’s gaze snaps to focus on the movement, tracing the idle circles Shiro’s rubbing against the shining button. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Remember when you said that thing that one time?”

“That thing that one time,” Keith repeats flatly, but his eyes are still focused on Shiro’s chest. “Of course.”

“About me stripping.”

Keith nearly chokes; he sets his data pad aside and looks Shiro in the eye, spluttering, “What?”

“You heard me.” Shiro steps a little closer to the couch. “And I heard you. Remember what you said?”

“Remind me.”

“You said you’d like to watch me get undressed sometime.”

To his credit, Keith recovers well enough by clearing his throat and says, “I did say that.”

Shiro pauses in his quest to unbutton the cuffs of his jacket, and he gets the reaction he’s looking for: Keith almost scowls. A little thrill of excitement runs down his spine. This could be fun. Shiro accuses, “You like this, don’t you, Keith?”

Keith definitely scowls this time, but the expression’s effect is diminished by the darkness blooming in his eyes, turning his violet eyes a more night sky shade of purple. “What’s your point?”

“You said that you want to watch me. Our schedules are clear for the night.” He raises his eyebrow. “Right?”

“They are now.” Keith goes to stand.

Shiro holds up a hand. “No.”

“What?”

“No touching till I’m done,” Shiro says, watching Keith’s face to gauge how he likes that.

The pace of Keith’s breathing increases just slightly, and his cheeks flush with something more violet than red. That’s a good sign. He nods quickly, licking his lips, and settles back among the couch cushions. “Fine,” he agrees, voice already rough. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good.” With that, Shiro finishes with his cuffs and returns to the actual buttons of his jacket, sliding them out of their fastenings one by one. He glances up at Keith while he does it, ensuring that he has Keith’s attention. In truth, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Keith more invested in something than he is right now.

He shrugs off the jacket and slides it down from his arm with care, letting the uniform drop to the ground. It’s a breach of some protocol or another, but that’s not the important thing right now. All that matters is Keith.

To fill the silence, because the weight of Keith’s eyes alone is enough to make his cheeks burn, Shiro says, “I like it when you watch me.” Because he does. He really does.

Keith shifts. 

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

“How do I look at you?” Keith asks, voice soft, so intense that it pools heat in Shiro’s belly. “Tell me.”

He’s going to keep his composure. “Lance says you look like you’re possessed by a starving animal when you see me,” he teases.

“Don’t you dare talk about Lance right now,” Keith warns.

Shiro shrugs. “Was he wrong, though? I don’t think so.”

“Not the point.”

“I’m flattered that you’re starving, Keith.”

“I hate you.”

“I can stop, you know.”

“No.” Keith’s voice is loud this time. He tilts his chin up, just a bit, and looks Shiro in the eyes. “Keep going. Shirt next.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Who’s giving the orders here?” Shiro asks.

“I’m really not sure who’s in charge of this,” Keith admits. He shifts where he’s sitting, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants. From here, Shiro can see that he’s getting hard, and that alone has him thinking about all the ways he wants Keith right now. “C’mon, Captain,” Keith says, jerking him back into the moment, “show me what’s under there.”

Well, he can’t say no to Keith. He reaches down and grasps the hem of his undershirt with both hands, lifting the shirt up and over his head in a single fluid motion. In the heartbeat of time when his eyes are covered by fabric, he hears Keith’s appreciative hum, and he basks in the praise. 

Again, Keith’s gaze falls to his hands, watching Shiro pick through the fabric. He must feel Shiro’s eyes on him, because he looks up at him and shrugs a little helplessly. It’s ridiculously endearing.

Shiro realizes there’s not really a sexy way to take off his uniform pants; it’s not like they’re exceptionally flattering anyway. Keith seems to enjoy seeing him take off the belt, though, so he counts that as a success. Idly, he wraps the belt around his hands a few times before he puts it down, and he takes a mental note about the soft, barely-contained noise that Keith makes when he does it.

He’s curious. This is all about learning and trying new things, right? He carefully steps out of his uniform pants and asks, “What is it that you like so much about this?”

“A lot.”

“Tell me.”

Keith says, “C’mon, Shiro, don’t make me say it out loud.”

“For me?”

Keith seems to consider this for a moment, and Shiro thinks he might not answer, so he chooses that moment to reach down and palm himself through his underwear. He’s been getting hard for a while now, driven towards arousal by the adrenaline of being watched and the knowledge of what comes next. It feels so good, not coming close to relieving the pressure there, but at least it takes the edge off.

And he’s performing, after all, so he makes direct eye contact with Keith and lets out the barest hint of a moan.

In that moment, Keith’s gaze could probably light a lesser man on fire. “You’re such a fucking tease, Shiro.”

Shiro laughs, thumbing at the waistband of his underwear. “I think I recall  _ you  _ being the one who wanted to see me strip.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “I did, but now you’re using it against me.”

“It’s called a strip  _ tease,  _ Keith, oh my god. So I think it worked pretty well.”

“It did,” Keith hums, and his dark gaze burns a path up and down the length of Shiro’s body. “Keep going.” He’s spread out on the couch now, legs spread wide, and his arms are extended along the top of the couch. 

So Keith’s totally committed to this now. That’s dangerous.

Shiro tugs his underwear down an inch and says, “Tell me what you like about this.”

This time, Keith’s more receptive to the question. There’s that hint of his old accent in his voice this time, warm like honey, when he says, “Your fingers. Could watch them for days.”

Another inch. “What else?”

“Seeing you take off Captain Shirogane. Seeing you become you again.” Keith swallows. He adds, “Become mine.”

Shiro shivers. “What else?” he breathes. “One more thing.”

Keith licks his lips. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” he says bluntly, and there’s enough of a rasp in there that Shiro can’t imagine himself ever saying no to him.

So he takes off his underwear.

And then he’s bare before Keith, standing in the middle of their suite’s living room.

And Keith smiles his predator’s smile.

Shiro wants him.

One of Keith’s fingers lifts up; he twirls it lazily. “Turn around, Shiro,” he drawls.

Shiro turns.

His skin’s prickling with the comparative cold of the room, but it still feels like he’s on fire. Every inch of him is exposed, and he can feel Keith’s gaze on him. It burns in the best way. 

Thoughtfully, Keith tells him, “I think I want to peel you out of your flight suit next time.”

Shiro grins over his shoulder. “Is that a promise?”

“Could be.” Keith tilts his head to the side, studying Shiro quietly for a moment before he says, “Take my time with it. Mark up every inch as I take that fucking suit off. Do you have any idea how good you look in it, by the way?”

“I have an idea.”

“Sure you do.”

Shiro turns back around. On impulse, he strides across the room and climbs into Keith’s lap, straddling him easily. Like this, it’s immediately apparent how hard Keith is, and Shiro revels in the fact that he’s like that just from watching. Experimentally, he rolls his hips down, seeking friction for himself as well, and lets out a soft moan of relief.

It feels good. God, how could anything with Keith not feel good?

“You said no touching,” Keith growls. And he’s still not touching. It’s impressive: Shiro can hear how hard it is for him to hold himself back. 

Shiro laughs. “That was a rule for you. I’m making the rules right now, babe.” He kisses Keith on the cheek, soft and sweet, relishing the hissing sigh Keith lets out in return. “I can touch all I want.”

“God, I love you.” There’s a unique sort of wonder in Keith’s voice.

“Love you too, baby.” He drags his fingers along the top of Keith’s head, tugging at his hair as he goes. Keith’s eyes slip shut, and his lips part just a bit to let out a sigh. Good. Shiro catches him in a kiss, finding Keith’s tongue with his own. 

At the same time, he shifts and settles further into Keith’s lap, chasing the pleasure he needs. He gets what he wants: Keith’s hips jerk up to meet his, and another soft sigh escapes him. On the tops of the couch cushions, his hands are clenched hard enough to leave indents. Shiro’s pretty sure he hears fabric ripping, so Keith’s claws are probably out. 

Perfect.

Not for the upholstery, though. They might need a new couch. 

That’s low priority at the moment. Shiro has other things on his mind, and Keith’s got Shiro in his lap.

“Shiro,” Keith begs, close enough to a whine that Shiro’s first instinct is to take him right then and there.

It would be great, of course. Keith looks like he could use a good fuck. 

The thing is that Shiro could too, and he’s not about to change his mind on this.

Time to move things along.

Shiro gets up and out of Keith’s lap without preamble, breaking away from Keith. It’s gratifying to see the way that Keith chases him for a few more inches, lips parted to reclaim him. “C’mon, Keith,” he singsongs, and he turns on his heel, heading towards their bedroom. He doesn’t wait around to see Keith get up.

When he dares to look over his shoulder, though, it’s to see one of his favorite sights: Keith, eyes dark and wide, stalking after him with the intent of a predator.

Shiro smiles and turns back around, leading the way to their room.

Keith pushes him down on the bed before Shiro can even turn and face him, pressing him face down into the mattress. He climbs on top, covering Shiro’s body with his own, laying an open-mouthed kiss against his neck. Shiro can feel the hard line of his cock against his bare skin, rubbing through Keith’s pants. 

“I’m touching now,” Keith says in his ear, hot and close enough that Shiro can hear the underlying snarl. “Gonna stop me?”

“I know what’s good for me.” Shiro grins against the sheets. “You’re in control, paladin.”

The switch is easy enough. It’s never been hard to hand the reins over to Keith; Shiro knows he’s in capable hands. The same hands run down his sides, appreciatively squeezing at the muscles they find there. Keith attacks Shiro’s neck with a ferocity Shiro’s not seen in a while. A few times, Shiro almost hisses at the touch of too-sharp teeth, but any sting is quickly soothed by a press of lips or a quick swipe of the tongue. 

Shiro’s flat against the mattress, or close enough not to matter, and it’s impossible to ignore how hard he is. He can’t move enough to get any friction, though, and the pressure’s maddening. He shifts, trying to move a bit, but Keith’s holding him down with his unnatural, beautiful strength. 

He can never get enough of the fact that Keith can always work him up like this.

“You were good at that,” Keith tells him, and the praise falls rough and warm from his lips. “God, Shiro, you made me want you even more.”

“I didn’t know there was still room for more wanting.”

“Mm. I’ll always want you, Shiro. No matter what.” Keith presses a kiss to his cheek. The touch, tender and soft, makes Shiro blush. Keith’s too good at this: the effortless mix of affection and passion always sends his head spinning. That’s how he likes it with Keith. With him, it’s easy to give up control.

If he didn’t have his mind set on how he wants this night to go, Shiro would be content to be like this, beneath Keith with their hips flush against one another, working together.

But he’s made up his mind.

“Get out of those clothes,” Shiro mutters. 

“Wanna watch?”

“Shut up.”

But Keith stops pressing himself so firmly into Shiro’s back, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek as he gets off the bed to strip off his clothes. He’s having mercy tonight, blessedly.

Shiro turns over, partially so he can watch Keith for real, and partially so he can ease some of the pressure. He gives himself a few cursory strokes, watching Keith unceremoniously tear his clothes off and throw them to the side. He knows he’ll never get Keith to strip for him and put on any sort of show, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy seeing him bare himself for Shiro’s eyes only.

Keith pushes his hair out of his face and crawls onto the bed, grinning when Shiro backs up so that Keith can corner him against the headboard. Shiro smiles up at him, settling in easily below him. Keith tangles his fingers in the short strands of Shiro’s hair and pulls him up into a kiss. His other hand cradles Shiro’s face; a claw-tipped thumb strokes affectionately along his cheekbone. Shiro sinks into the kiss, hungry for whatever he can get. He’s not disappointed: Keith’s mouth is warm and wet and familiar, and Shiro loses himself in the heady rhythm of loving him.

“I want you,” Shiro tells him when they part, staring up into his violet eyes long since gone dark with desire.

“Tell me how.” Keith knows the answer, of course. It turns out that he just likes to hear Shiro say it.

“I want you in me,” Shiro breathes. “Please.”

The corners of Keith’s eyes crinkle into a smile. He’s pleased already. “Sit back and let me help you out.”

Shiro doesn’t think he’s ever moved so quickly in his life.

“Or,” Keith says, and a little smile curves across his lips, “you can start yourself off.”

Shiro’s heart stops and starts again; Keith’s words hit him with electricity that runs all the way down to his toes. “And what about you?” he asks.

“I can watch.”

All of the air goes out of him. Shiro’s cock twitches on his stomach, betraying just how much that idea means to him.

Keith doesn’t miss it; he bends low and kisses the curve of Shiro’s collarbone. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Suddenly bold, Shiro asks, “Sure you’re patient enough for that?”

Keith’s eyes narrow, and  _ god,  _ Shiro should hit him with a challenge more often. “Yes.”

“If you say so.”

“I hate when you use that tone, Shiro, fuck you.”

“That’s your job.” Shiro grins.

Keith leans in close, lips brushing against Shiro’s. He’s close enough to tease and not to kiss, and it’s the most beautiful torture. “Then you should do yours.”

Shiro has to swallow the instinctive reply of  _ Yes, sir _ and instead nods.

“Use the metal hand.” Keith draws back, settling in on his knees beside Shiro. He reaches over to the bedside table for lube and presses it into Shiro’s hand. He settles in, takes himself in his hand, and purrs, “Give me another show, Captain.”

So Shiro does.

The first finger is easy enough; Shiro’s gotten enough practice with the new hand on his own and on the few other occasions that they’ve had him on the bottom. Still, the size takes a moment to get used to, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the intensity of the slow slide from a dull ache into warm pleasure. 

He lets out a shaking breath and moves the finger in and out, getting as deep as he can. He wants to be ready. 

When he dares to look up at Keith’s eyes, it’s exactly how he expects it to be. There’s a burning warmth in his gaze, and something like hunger as well. Shiro stares up at him and tries to convey the full weight of his adoration.

“Keep going,” Keith encourages, and the purposeful rhythm of his hand on his own cock changes, speeding up. 

Shiro adds the second finger slowly, giving himself time to adjust to the size. It’s hard to take it slowly when he knows what’s coming after this.

Keith’s not exactly controlling himself either. Over the few minutes that Shiro’s been working, he’s lost some of his earlier composure; his careful attachment to the scene is fading in the face of his desire. His eyelids flutter shut, and he digs a too-sharp tooth into his bottom lip to muffle a sigh of pleasure. He’s a sight for sure, too beautiful to be entirely human.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs.

He wants Keith’s eyes on him. He wants to be the one who’s the cause of those sounds.

God, he wants Keith in him right now.

The golden light of Keith’s eyes falls on him once more. It’s not often that he gets comfortable enough to lift up the control on his appearance, and Shiro revels in the privilege of being the one to watch him come undone.

Roughly, warmly, Keith tells him, “Everyone sees you on stage and thinks that your speeches are your biggest performance; that you’re their perfect paladin who’s made for the stage.” It’s not quite mocking. More conspiratorial. Private. Like Keith’s the only one who knows the truth. “But look at you now.”

Shiro opens his eyes, and he can’t help his smile even as he breathes out Keith’s name, halfway to begging. 

Keith grins down at him, lopsided and adoring. “Amazing,” he murmurs softly, and Shiro loves him so much.

The pleasure pooling in the bottom of his stomach is pleasantly warm; Shiro basks in it. He focuses on the feeling of being stretched and filled, and he wants more.

Keith leans in close to his ear, kissing his way there. “You’re being shy with it.”

Shiro glares at him and spreads his fingers for good measure. It’s a really good measure, in hindsight. He’s pretty proud that his voice doesn’t waver when he says, “I’m not.”

“You’re holding back. Playing it safe.” Keith reaches down, trailing claw-tipped fingers in a soft rasp down Shiro’s torso. Shiro’s abdominal muscles twitch beneath his touch, but there’s no hesitation in the movement. It bypasses Shiro’s growing need entirely, taking a brief detour to lovingly spread a firm touch over a thigh. The touch grounds him in how simple it is, but the possessive way Keith squeezes the tense line of his quadriceps reminds him of what they’re here for. Of how, right now, Shiro’s ready to give every part of himself over into Keith’s hands.

Keith must know, because he always does, and he presses a soft kiss to Shiro’s temple, still idly running his fingers over his thigh. Shiro lets his eyes flutter shut, and his hips cant upwards to try to chase the touch and put pressure where he needs it most. For a perfect moment, Keith obliges and takes Shiro’s cock in his hand, stroking him with an ease that comes with more than enough practice. Shiro hums in approval, rolling his hips up into the warm circle of Keith’s fingers and then back down onto his own. The combination sets starbursts alight behind his eyelids. His mouth falls open, and when he breathes out again, a soft moan comes with it.

After a few strokes like that, Keith removes his hand, ignoring Shiro’s muttered protest. He tells Shiro, “I’ll help you do it right.”

Hearing that is enough to make Shiro’s hips buck upwards of their own accord, chasing a friction that Keith won’t give him. He wants Keith now.

But Keith wants what he wants. He takes Shiro’s metal wrist and holds it steady, keeping him at bay with only his fingertips left inside. Shiro squirms and can’t stop the tail end of a whine from spilling from his lips. That makes Keith smile, soft and loving. The hungry darkness in his eyes spreads more, and there’s hardly any violet left in his gaze. It’s still Keith, though, and Shiro craves more of his attention; he’s the one making Keith feel like that. God, he just wants Keith to feel good too.

But, fuck, it’s hard to focus on that when Keith’s holding his metal hand by the wrist and slowly urging his fingers back inside for him. 

It feels different somehow.

They’re still his own fingers, metal and large and connected to his mind. It’s still his hand, and his fingers. Shiro knows how they feel when they’re deep inside him. But now he’s not the one in control of the hand, and that changes everything.

Keith’s using him, and Shiro can’t get enough.

“Spread your fingers,” Keith suggests.

It’s second nature to obey an order; Shiro’s mechanical fingers are so in tune with his mind that they execute the command before he even thinks about issuing it. He cries out in surprise at the sensation, moaning when the tip of one of the fingers brushes against his prostate. 

“Feel good?”

Shiro nods frantically - he can’t find the words in the haze of pleasure and heat and  _ Keith -  _ and plants his feet on the bed, levering himself down onto his waiting fingers.

A pleased little hum rumbles from Keith’s chest into Shiro’s body, vibrating through his bones. Shiro hopes that his answering moan makes a nice harmony. Keith tells him, “Thought so.” 

Keith builds up a decent rhythm like that, guiding Shiro’s hand in and out. He murmurs quiet commands as he does it, and little encouragements as well. The best things to fall from his lips, though, are the soft intonations of Shiro’s name, followed by little interjections of  _ babe, baby, darlin’- _

“I love it when you open me up with this hand,” Keith tells him, and the sharp pinpricks of his teeth dig into Shiro’s earlobe. He tugs, biting down just hard enough that Shiro whines, and then continues, “Makes me a little jealous, really. If you didn’t make such nice sounds, I’d probably take your hand and fuck myself with it instead.”

It’s rare that he gets Keith to be so honest. These sorts of confessions only come out when he’s too focused to be distracted by embarrassment. That makes them honest and real and  _ filthy, _ and Shiro gasps out, “Keith, I-”

“We could finish you off just like this, Shiro. D’you want that?”

Shiro shakes his head as emphatically as he can manage right now. “Fuck me,” he begs. “Keith, please.”

So, so close to Shiro’s ear, close enough that Shiro can feel the wicked curve of his smile, Keith purrs, “Patience.”

He’s going to be the death of Shiro. It’s official.

Shiro squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on Keith all around him; tries to imagine that it’s him inside him as well.

“Do you think you can take another?”

“Keith-”

He can, probably. The metal hand’s big but he’s had some practice with it. That’s not what he wants, though.

He’s ready for Keith.

And surely Keith wants him too. It’s not gone unnoticed that Keith’s panting in his ear, rubbing himself off against the hard planes of Shiro’s body. He’s gotten closer ever since he took control, abandoning all pretenses of watching.

This is more than enough to get him ready. They need to end this soon if there’s any hope of Shiro getting what he wants.

“You can come if you want to,” Keith tells him. He breaks off into a low, breathy moan, and his hips jerk against Shiro. “Fuck.”

“Keith, no, I want-” Shiro takes command back, carefully shrugging his arm out of Keith’s grip and removing his fingers. The emptiness makes him whine, but he knows that soon he’ll feel so much better. “Please.”

“Stay on your back,” Keith orders, and he settles himself in between Shiro’s legs. “Wanna see your face.”

All the better for Shiro, then, because he gets a full view of Keith’s entire body. It’s a familiar enough sight: Shiro’s memorized every new and faded scar across his chest and arms, intersecting with the pale blush-colored striped markings on his shoulders and hips. There are a few on Keith’s arms and legs too, faint enough that you’d never notice them if you weren’t looking, but Shiro’s always taking in every one of Keith’s details. He notices.

Keith takes a moment to spread some lube on his hand and stroke himself a couple times, edging closer to Shiro with every passing second. To encourage him, Shiro plants his feet on the mattress and lifts his hips just a bit more. Keith snorts and murmurs something in the Galra tongue that might be affectionate; the way he says it, it certainly sounds like it. 

“Say that again.”

“Impatient,” Keith tells him, but one of his hands finds its way to the small of Shiro’s back anyway, lifting him up just a little more as he gets closer. With his other hand, he guides his cock to Shiro’s entrance, carefully bringing Shiro down onto him. 

Shiro squeezes his eyes shut, breathing slowly as Keith rocks into him, taking his time to let him adjust. It’s a kind allowance, but Shiro thinks he might like something more.

“I love you,” he breathes, powerless to do anything but deliver praise. Keith has to know. He has to know how much Shiro can’t believe his luck. He has to know how much he’s loved.

Keith reaches down and wraps his fingers around Shiro’s cock, and Shiro nearly sobs at how good it feels. He’s torn between the bliss of Keith on him and in him and around him, and all he ever wants is to stay like this forever. He always wants Keith close.

“Faster?” Shiro asks breathlessly, even though the slow, deep thrusts have him burning. They’re not what he wants right now. He’s not here to go slowly.

“Patience, yeah?”

“You’re a sadist, Keith.”

“Next time, don’t strip for me.” Keith’s fingers dig into his hip, tight enough to bruise, and Shiro groans. “That’s a good sound.”

But Keith obeys anyway and speeds up, taking his hand from Shiro’s cock to hold him firmly by the hip and by the bottom of one thigh. The leverage is just what he needed, and Shiro moans when the head of Keith’s cock nudges at his prostate once, and then again, and again.

“You’re amazing, Shiro,” Keith tells him breathlessly.

The brief pause before they’d started had pulled them back from the edge, but they’re both hurtling back towards it together. Neither of them have ever been good at holding themselves back. 

“Keith, if you keep that up, I’m gonna-”

“You can.” Keith kisses him and slides his arms beneath Shiro’s back, pulling him up. “Get up here,” he demands, and Shiro follows him up, letting Keith press him back against the backboard and pillows to hold him up. 

Like this, Shiro’s nearly towering over him, but Keith holds him effortlessly. He guides Shiro back down and adopts a more punishing rhythm; it’s what Shiro’s been wanting all along, and he tells Keith as much, breathing out his name like a prayer, over and over and over.

Keith echoes him in kind. “Shiro - Shiro,  _ yes,  _ god-”

“It feels so good, babe,” Shiro babbles, fisting his hands in the sheets just to keep himself in the moment. “Don’t stop, Keith,  _ please!” _

Shiro crashes over the edge first; he’s so strung out and eager, and his body knows exactly how to respond to Keith’s. He comes with a cry of Keith’s name, repeating it soundlessly as his world narrows to the all-encompassing bliss and every point where he and Keith are connected.

When he comes back to himself, Keith’s halted, bowed over Shiro’s body. “Keep going,” Shiro begs. He’s still on the right edge of overstimulated, still riding the aftershocks of his orgasm. Every thrust sends bright starbursts of pleasure up his spine, electrifying his every nerve. He’s going to want to sleep after this, but right now he’s still focusing on Keith, Keith, Keith-

Keith bites down on Shiro’s shoulder when he comes, hard enough to ache but not nearly enough to break the skin. He still moans, low and wrecked, and the vibration of it sends Shiro shaking all over again. He works his release out with a few final, halting thrusts, breathing hot and fast over Shiro’s skin. He leaves kisses on the spot when he’s done, one after the other, light enough in comparison to the pain that it makes Shiro shiver.

Shiro runs his hand down the column of Keith’s spine, tracing the scars he’s known for ages. Once he gets to Keith’s hips, he changes course and follows the path of the pale stripes there instead. That elicits a pleased, sensitive hum from above, and Shiro smiles.

Keith raises his lips from Shiro’s shoulder, moving instead to his lips, and Shiro opens up to him without preamble. They kiss slowly, no longer driven by any urgency. It’s just Keith and Shiro, together in bed, enjoying each other’s touch.

After a minute or two, Keith shifts and slowly pulls out; it’s a little painful and more than a little uncomfortable, and Shiro grumbles about it, but Keith soothes the ache with another kiss; one hand finds Shiro’s hip and rubs a slow circle against his hipbone. The comfort does well to bring Shiro back to himself.

Eventually, and with a little bit of complaining, Keith rolls out of bed and pads over to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth. “Caught me off guard with that one,” he muses when he comes back, pushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes. He kneels at the side of the bed and carefully wipes Shiro down, getting rid of the worst of the mess. “How long’ve you been working on that?”

“Long enough.” Keith doesn’t need to know about all the times he’s fantasized about it while he’s gotten changed for missions. Definitely not.

Or maybe just not right now.

He asks, though, “Did you like it?”

“Did I enjoy it?” Keith repeats, and he tosses the washcloth into the pile where he’d left his clothes. “It’s one of your best ideas yet.”

“Should I thank Lance for telling me-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Keith’s smiling, though, and he hops into bed and plasters himself against Shiro’s side once more. “For your own sake.”

“Noted.”

“You’re doing the laundry tomorrow.”

Shiro groans and throws his human arm over his eyes. “Keith, why?”

Keith flicks his hand. “Don’t be like that. This was your idea. I think it’s your turn anyway.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not my turn, Keith, and I think you know that.”

Like the menace he is, Keith kisses him to distract him, and Shiro’s not even ashamed to admit that it works. He sends his mechanical arm down to grab the blankets that’ve been kicked to the foot of the bed, tugging them up and around the two of them. The added warmth makes him grin in approval into the kiss, and Keith’s answering hum has a rumbling bass to it that vibrates out from his chest. Shiro lifts his arm from his eyes and uses it to wrap around Keith’s neck instead, hauling him in close. 

Keith’s smaller frame fits against his perfectly, filling in the gaps that would otherwise be left cold beneath the sheets. They’re going to both need showers in a little while, but for now Shiro just wants to stay under the covers for a lifetime, holding Keith close.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Keith echoes.

“I love you.”

He can feel Keith’s smile against his chest. “Love you too,” Keith mumbles, and Shiro ruffles his hair.

They can stay here for a while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> may have been mildly concussed while writing some of this but all that matters is bottom shiro
> 
> find me on tumblr at [earthspaladins!](http://www.earthspaladins.tumblr.com)


End file.
